


Home Now

by YourGayDads



Series: Mating Mates [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Modern AU, Oral Sex, PWP, i'm being shitgarbage at tagging this sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22974826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourGayDads/pseuds/YourGayDads
Summary: James & Thomas fuck after some time apart.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Series: Mating Mates [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650973
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Home Now

The traffic coming from Surrey was horrible. For that time of day though, it shouldn’t have been since most people were usually driving in the opposite direction. 

An accident. Natch. 

A four-car pileup. _Great_. 

So far, Thomas had been mostly quiet. He occasionally tapped on his knee to the throbbing music of a neighboring car. He was more mindful of James’s incessant apologizing than the scene before them, while James was convinced that this was the worst traffic to have ever occurred in the history of cars — in the history of roads — in the history of human existence. 

For fuck’s sake, didn’t they know that Thomas was going home today? 

An hour and a few miserable miles later, Thomas started to get hungry, but of course there was nowhere near the motorway to get food. Fed up, James veered off into the nearest village where they found its one cafe. Greasy, sickly lit, and plasticky, it was a goddamn oasis. Thomas gave the short menu of all-fried options a quick once-over. He sighed that all he seemed to want to do now was eat but barely touched the chips he ordered. James and his itching anxiety finished them off with ease along with a plate of sausages and four mugs of tea.

They decided to wait out the evening there. It started to rain. At regular intervals, James reached across the table to take Thomas’s hand. A reminder to himself that he was there, a reminder to Thomas that he wasn’t alone. They talked about all the things they missed doing together and all the things they were going to do. Thomas said that he wanted to get a cat.

James tossed his keys towards its designated receptacle and missed, because it was that kind of day. He flopped onto the sofa and kicked off his shoes under the coffee table, grateful though to be back in his flat. _Their_ flat, he meant. Ever since the Earl reclaimed the mews house in Bloomsbury that they had shared.

Thomas sat down next to him and rested his head on his shoulder. “You don’t care if I take a shower now?”

“God, of course not. I got that Japanese shampoo you like.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Once he disappeared into the bathroom, James turned on his phone. He warned Miranda that he’d be ignoring it, but she slammed it with texts anyway. Like anybody else, she just needed to. He hastily scrolled through them then paused over an old photo she attached. Not of Thomas but of him. 

They were on holiday, ages ago. James needed a minute to rest after a long, hot afternoon of sightseeing. Thomas discreetly raised his phone, pretended to be texting like he did in museums where photography wasn’t allowed. James didn’t notice right away, but when he did he threw a hand up in front of his face. He hated having his photo taken. He hated seeing himself in them. _Oh god, no. Don’t._ Thomas cajoled then flat-out implored, telling him and random pedestrians how gorgeous he looked sitting on that yellow-painted bollard. _That color, James! It’s a fucking bollard, Thomas._ Eventually James conceded. He always did.

 _Home now_ , he typed.

\- _How is he?_ she instantly texted back.

_Tired_

\- _Angry?_

_Don’t know. Didn’t have a 2000 page manifesto on him_

\- _Its coming._

James had to laugh at that. As bleak as the situation he escaped from was, there was something comforting about Thomas, on the train back to London, ranting during brief moments of lucidity about the corruptibility of private medical practice.

\- _You’re not fussing he hates that._

_I know. Trying not to_

It was late so he lastly texted her his love and powered the phone off. 

He went into the bedroom and changed into a t-shirt. He liked to keep it on the cooler side, but was it too cool? Should he get another blanket? He proceeded to fluff the pillows, something he never did, but his hands needed busying. _Ah_. He should probably leave a tumbler of water on the bedside table for Thomas. 

_…he hates that._

“Right, right,” James muttered to himself. He pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes.

Thomas entered the room, naked and toweling his hair, the sweet smell of yuzu wafting from him. James fought to not look away. Walking around naked in your own home was a perfectly normal thing to do. As was looking at the naked body of your husband.

They were still husbands after all. Lovers. Partners. Nothing about that had changed one iota for either of them. They tacitly understood they’d share the bed however much time had passed since they last did, because that’s what old lovers did, didn’t they? They didn’t need to verbalize everything or handle each other like one was fragile and the other dangerous. 

Thomas turned the covers down and sat on the bed, still drying his hair. It was longer than he usually kept it. James thought it looked cute but knew he’d have it cut as soon as he could.

He stretched out with a heavy sigh then brought the covers up to his chin. Thomas never could sleep clothed. After they dropped him off, Miranda reminisced between sniffs how he would squirm and whine like a toddler in overnight situations he couldn’t risk immodesty. Yanking at the waistband of his underwear and whatnot, tossing and turning. 

James wondered how much he’d been able to sleep there.

“That’s so much better,” Thomas murmured.

James rounded the bed to the left side, his side, as it was deemed forever on the first night Thomas spent with him. He took off his jeans and draped them neatly over the back of his desk chair.

He lifted the covers to get in and caught another glimpse of Thomas’s body in the light of the lamp. It bore more lines than it did before. Of course there were those on his face, furrows dug deep by the harrows of misery. Limned with shadows, they were so pronounced, but they were just more lines for James’s fingers to learn and for him to adore. Like with rivers or snaking estuaries or rickrack grooves in the sand at low tide, he was the earth shaped by water and time. James’s eyes followed the lines of his biceps toned by mandatory exercise, and the veins that bulged on his forearms. The dips and swells of his abdominal muscles down to his hip, and from his hip down the straight slant to his —

He let the covers fall back onto them. He closed his eyes as Thomas had almost immediately, the possibility of any further discussion shut down. He listened to the sound of cars driving over wet asphalt, the muffled snippets of conversation as people passed beneath the window, the imaginary dialogue between them that was perpetually playing out in his head. Thomas’s hand found his, and everything went quiet.

“It’s all right,” he said, reading him. 

That’s what he said, after Miranda tracked him down and took James to the facility in Inverness where his father had him committed. For years, he’d been fed benzo cocktails, modafinil for drowsiness, tramadol for the aches and pains, and whatever else that would keep him voiceless and fightless as long as the checks cleared. He didn’t know up from down, day from night, but upon seeing them, his only true constants, he uttered those words. 

That’s what he said when they had to admit they couldn’t manage his newfound dependencies and entered him into detox then rehab. For months afterwards, they visited him in Surrey, where he half-jokingly complained about the hideous plimsolls they had to wear and the stone he gained in the first three weeks. _God, I’ve never eaten so much bread in my life._ Neither mentioned how thin he had been.

“Fuck,” James hissed. His eyes prickled with tears.

“Stop it.” 

With his gaze firmly on James, Thomas raised his hand and kissed it. The simple gesture stole James’s breath and left him raw. 

It was all they needed to breach the final wall. On those nights when James’s loneliness took on a cruder quality, he guiltily wondered how and when to broach this for when the opportunity might arise. He didn’t imagine that it would on Thomas’s first proper night home.

He extended his fingers and brushed them weightlessly over those lips he badly missed.

“Don’t ask,” Thomas whispered before James could. 

His hand traveled tentatively across his cheek then down his neck, grazing the hard node of his Adam’s apple. The more it moved, the more faith it gained, the more it wanted and remembered how good this felt. He opened it flat against Thomas’s broad chest and swept through its spray of fine hair.

“Mm,” he grunted when James pushed him onto his back. It was an encouraging little sound that went straight to James’s cock. Lust began to quickly circulate throughout him like fevered blood.

James folded back the covers to expose Thomas fully. His skin exploded in goosepimples. His nipples shrank into sharply defined buds. James nearly took the lamp out when he whipped his t-shirt off.

“Mmm.” A soft whine this time and the enticing parting of his knees urged him on. Ignore those gnawing thoughts. For tonight, forget the hell they survived and hopefully for all the nights thereafter. Together, shed those hardened scales and emerge from beneath them renewed.

“Beautiful.”

Thomas looked down at himself as if to confirm. His half-erect cock sat fat and heavy on the top of his leg. It slowly lolled towards his navel as it grew fatter and heavier.

A short laugh burst from him, taking James out of the moment.

“Shut up.”

He craned his head upwards in an invitation for a kiss. Their foreheads nearly collided when James rushed forward to take his lips between his. They slid down to suck then tug on the bottom one with his teeth. Their tongues licked playfully, almost combatively as their mouths moved over the other, wet, slippery, and hungry.

It was on their second date they first snogged like this. In the back of a taxi. The tip of Thomas’s nose was cold, and he tasted of whiskey. Some things James would never forget. Would carry with him to the ends of the world.

 _I see one willy, and you two can fuck off out of my car_ , the driver had said.

James pulled away to chuckle.

“What?” 

He wiped away the spittle that collected below Thomas’s mouth with his thumb.

“Nothing.”

James lowered himself down onto his body. He shifted a bit to the right and up until they fit perfectly, their cocks pressed together between them.

“God, I missed this. I missed you,” Thomas said into his neck. He embraced him so tightly that James struggled to breathe. “I need to be closer to you. Closer. Closer.”

James broke his clinch with some difficulty to kiss him, less greedily this time. It was the kind of kiss he swore he would give him every morning should he get him back, and every night, and so many more times in between.

He kissed him past the hinge of his jaw, remembering how Thomas used to lose himself — a little but just enough — from that touch. 

“Again.”

James happily obeyed. He sucked the skin in between his parted lips and teased it with his tongue.

“Mmm.” Thomas shivered, causing their cocks to rub together just right. “Oh,” he breathed out excitedly. 

“Oh,” James repeated before sliding down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. 

The heat off Thomas’s cock was palpable and irresistible. He pressed a lingering kiss to its base. Before he’d known the touch of men, James thought only pleasure could be derived in receiving this and not in giving. He hated that there was so much the world had kept from him like dirty secrets. Its taste, its feel. The solid mass of it in his hand alone could disorder his mind. The slit seemed to have been made for the tip of his tongue to probe. Even though it had been so long, his body still knew with certainty what it wanted to do with Thomas’s and how.

He swallowed him down as far as he could then slowly pulled off to relish the variations in its contours and the skip of his lips as they passed over the coronal ridge. He looked up. For a moment, he watched Thomas distractedly grab at his own chest and pluck his nipples. He gave the shaft a long lick before taking him in again.

Thomas’s knees rose up around James’s shoulders. Writhing and rocking, his hands searched for something to hold onto while his toes curled into the bed. James held the head loosely in his mouth and rolled his tongue around it. He smoothed a hand up Thomas’s chest to twist his nipples. With his other hand, he thumbed the skin beneath his balls, pressing down and massaging it in circles.

“Oh — no.” Thomas nudged that hand away. “I won’t last another second if you do that. And I want this to last.”

James sat up between his legs and stroked him at a more deliberate pace. He leaned over to open the bedside table drawer. He recoiled at the sight of the dildo he kept in it and had forgotten about. Not that he had had guests to accidentally discover it, and Thomas by no means would have denied him it or judged him for it. It was as close as he could find that mimicked his size and shape, but in the presence of the real thing, what a desperately sad substitute it made. James knocked it aside to retrieve a small bottle of lube. It had taken him over a year to use even half of it, his libido having been that infrequent a visitor. 

He returned a generously coated finger between Thomas’s legs. He circled his hole to warm him up and relax him. It slipped in easily then out. In. And out. Thomas’s breath quickened. Lips drawn in between his teeth, he burrowed his head back into the pillow when James caressed that spot. He dribbled more lube into his hand and dragged it over his cock twice.

Thomas reached down to guide him in. The hot slide into his body pushed all the air out of James in a long, blissful sigh. Thomas held him there until he sufficiently adjusted and released him, granting him permission to enter deeper. The envelopment of his body around him was hotter and tighter and more silken than James’s memories were ever able to evoke.

He positioned himself over Thomas so he could observe his pleasure too. He watched his mouth widen when it climbed and close softly when it receded. He raised his hands over his head and scrabbled blindly at the headboard. James latched onto his wrists, pinning them in place. Thomas’s eyes flew open.

“Wait.”

“Okay, okay.”

He wrapped his legs tightly around James’s waist and freed his wrists from his grip. In one swift motion, he steered them both onto James’s back.

“Fuck,” James whispered and looked up at Thomas in awe.

He was always just that big — and that strong still, but from that vantage point, he was monumental. It was James’s cock penetrating him, but Thomas was taking him now. Because that’s what he did — turned everything on its head. Acts of kindness became acts of empowerment. Questions the answers you didn’t even know you’d been looking for. When he turned James’s world inside out, it felt like his destruction, but that was what it took for him to recognize and accept his true self.

Thomas slowly began moving over him in a measured bob, shifting his hips back then rolling them forward. James inhaled sharply through his nose when he seemed to find the right angle. Suddenly overwhelmed, Thomas let his chin fall to his chest.

James thought of the first time he came this way. It took weeks to acclimatize his body to that odd sensation of pressure. When he finally gave himself over to it entirely, what a revelation it was, and it only could have been with him.

He ran his hands up and down Thomas’s arms reassuringly. He urged him to come closer, to look at him, so that he could see his face better and those eyes that saw him like no one else’s did. They spoke so much all the time, but right now they only said, yes.

_Yes._

_Yes._

“Yes.”

James jerked his hips up. He couldn’t help it. Thomas stopped and kissed him, reassuring him in return that he very much intended to get James where he wanted to go. His searching mouth roved his pecs before closing around his nipple. He flicked it with the edge of a tooth. A shock of pleasure ran through James, and his cock ached for attention again. He cupped Thomas’s buttocks and parted them slightly. He gently touched where his skin met his in this most intimate way. Thomas resumed riding him, harder and faster now, and they were swept up in something greater than them both. Undulating like waves, they moved together, and together they were water. Wherever it traveled, however far, up into the clouds or deep into the earth, it always, inexorably returned.

“Ah, fu— _Thomas_.”

James arched his back, lifting his lower body and Thomas off the bed. He was so focused on him he almost didn’t notice that he was coming. He dropped back down hard, panting, and inadvertently pitched Thomas over onto his side. He clumsily landed on his elbow with a surprised laugh then repositioned himself onto his back.

When James reached for Thomas’s flagging erection, he made a disagreeable noise in the back of his throat.

“But you didn’t…”

He shook his head, a small but contented smile on his face. “I don’t need to.” 

James simply nodded, knowing not to press. He got up to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom then realized he hadn’t brushed his teeth or washed his face. He switched the light on and squinted in pain. It was not the most attractive face to greet him in the mirror. He turned on the tap. Over the running water, he could hear sheets shifting then Thomas’s feet padding towards him.

He was never one to hide from anything or anyone, but in the unforgiving light of the bathroom, Thomas let out a laugh like a gasp and ducked his head behind James’s from their reflection. Too big for life and too bright for death, it was a hopeless attempt at concealment. He rested his chin on James’s shoulder to gaze fondly at their reflection and take in their flushed, wonderfully mussed selves.

“ _Oh_.”

He stepped backwards and snatched the wet washcloth from James’s hand.

“I suppose I need to get used to that again,” he said, chuckling, as he wiped the inside of his leg. Finished, he rinsed it off and tossed it into the hamper. 

By the time James joined him back in bed, he was sound asleep. His face was a peaceful mask. James lay there and listened to the city at night again, to its melancholy song. If it had been any other day, he might have taken half a sleeping pill or read until the sun came up. He knew he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight, but that was okay. 

It started to rain again. Tomorrow, maybe they’d see about a cat.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in record time for me so i don't exactly know what's going on in this universe.


End file.
